A Moment Missed
by Randomabiling
Summary: "...if you can honestly say you have never let a flirtation get out of hand since we married, never given a woman the wrong impression, by all means stay away. Otherwise, I expect you back in my room tonight." A 'what if' exploring how the narrative might have changed had Robert NOT gone back to Cora's bedroom at the end of Episode 6 in Series 5.
1. Chapter 1

" _..._ _if you can honestly say you have never let a flirtation get out of hand since we married, never given a woman the wrong impression, by all means stay away. Otherwise, I expect you back in my room tonight."_ _A 'what if' exploring how the narrative might have changed had Robert NOT gone back to Cora's bedroom at the end of Episode 6._

Chapter 1

" _..._ _if you can honestly say you have never let a flirtation get out of hand since we married, never given a woman the wrong impression, by all means stay away. Otherwise, I expect you back in my room tonight."_

Cora held her breath, each muscle clenched as she sat rigidly on her mattress, waiting. She closed her eyes, silently willing the door to open, but it remained stubbornly shut. The seconds passed, changing to minutes, and the air in her lungs struggled for release, the burn building uncomfortably. Her heart thumped so loudly she was sure it could be heard in the next room. Cora exhaled in a rush of pain and disappointment. Wounded. She felt wounded, as if Robert had literally pierced some vital organ. Could he really not be coming in? Her ultimatum hadn't been made lightly. She had eyes, she had a brain. Did he think she was still the naive nineteen year old girl he had married who would believe he'd never had an indiscretion?

"Perhaps I am," Cora lamented into the dark, quietly, sadly, as she stood, suddenly feeling much older than her age.

With effort, she peeled away the layers that swaddled her; house coat, slippers, and unfolded the perfectly tucked blankets of her bed. Robert's side was still, not a wrinkle marring the pristine surface. It had remained that way for days. A shiver ran across her shoulders and burrowed behind her breast bone, spreading through the rest of her body. Cora reached for the bell pull just as the first of her tears stung her eyes. She had been able to push them away up until now, thinking that Robert only needed some time, but they could no longer be contained.

Cora let go of the tassel and crawled into bed, not wanting Baxter to witness her breakdown, no matter how much she wished the fire to be relit. Crossing her arms tightly around herself, Cora drew her knees up. The dampened pillow under her head only exacerbated the chill she felt. Now that she was allowing herself a good cry, her tears brought with them a storm of feelings that tossed and banged inside of her. Anger, fear, despair...regret.

Simon had scared her. The trembling had begun once Robert left her room and hadn't stopped all night, keeping her awake and squinting into the dark, never looking away from the door. Would he come back? Would he dare with Robert in the next room? Cora had stayed vigilant until the first light of morning crept through the windows, and only then did some of the fear release her into sleep, only for her to be confronted by Mr. Bricker in her dreams. Dreams where Robert never came home and Mr. Bricker ignored her cries.

She was so very angry at Robert for not believing her, for thinking the worst. Didn't he know her at all? Didn't the constant love and loyalty she showed him the last thirty-plus years afford her his in return? Cora understood the immediate rage, but for it to turn into the hard distance that he now treated her with was devastating, and unfair. It was worse than their first year of marriage, when at least he was polite, when at least his behavior could be blamed on the newness of their acquaintance.

Cora was furious with herself most of all. She had done this, all of it. Her hand cupped over her mouth as she tried to push the sound of her sorrow back down into the shelter of her body. It had all seemed harmless but she had known her flirtation was affecting Robert. It was never meant to go as far as it did. She never thought Bricker would take her _seriously!_ His attention had been welcomed and she had enjoyed their discussions, the way he held her eyes the whole time she talked, how he didn't rush to finish her sentences or overrule her ideas. It was refreshing, it was novel...it made her lonely for Robert. His jealousy had only driven a deeper wedge between them and now, well now Cora had no idea how to fix the damage. Nothing was working and her latest attempt was all she had left, there was nothing else she could think of to bring Robert around to her side once again.

The back of Cora's throat tickled as a wave of nausea overtook her. She slid out of bed and hurried into the washroom. The feeling of sickness passed as her bare feet fell on the cold marble and she went over to the sink, turning on the tap. Bending down, Cora splashed warm water onto her face, then filled her hands up with more and submersed her face again. She repeated the motion over and over, the cleansing rhythm distracting her from the fresh tears that mingled with the water.

The collar of her nightdress pressed against her chest, sticky and wet, and Cora finally shut off the sink. Her hands shook as she reached for the small towel and patted her face dry. Closing her eyes she nestled into the soft fibers and her chin quivered violently. She looked at herself in the mirror, her pale and sagging reflection stared back.

Guilt settled in her gut and Cora placed her hand on her belly, the bloat of this new feeling painful and unyielding.

* * *

The dish of strawberries and cream had begun to wilt, a milky pool forming in the bottom of the glass bowl. Robert tapped absently at one plump berry with his spoon, though he couldn't find the desire to eat it. Instead, he played with the food, flicking his eyes up to Cora when she wasn't looking.

She sat across from him, her stoic face blank, no clue written upon it of the turmoil between them, keeping up appearances just as she had been taught so long ago. Young Atticus's parents were nearby after all, but Robert could see the traces of misery others couldn't; the pinched skin on the bridge of her nose, the reddened eyes, the periodic wringing of her hands. Cora was miserable. She hadn't spoken to him at all since last night, hadn't even met his eyes, unlike all of the other days since the...incident, when she'd tried to joke, or beguile, or flatter her way back into his good graces. No, Cora had remained steadfastly and thoroughly silent, and her silence stretched to the rest of the family, as she barely uttered a word to anyone.

Perhaps he should have gone into her room. Once she had she left, Robert's first impulse was to brush away her silly words. _What was she even-_ But then his heart had contracted, and then sped up spastically, the memory of Jane's lips bitter on his own. _Could Cora really know?!_ He had swung his legs off the bed, ready to follow her with his pride squashed and an apology forming in his mouth. It was the thought of what he would say, how much he would reveal, that caused him pause. It wasn't just his past indiscretion that had him still sitting on his bed, thoughts swirling tumultously, but how his admittal would somehow absolve Cora's behavior. The situations between she and Bricker and he and Jane couldn't be compared! There was a war going on, for God's sake, a _world war,_ and men were dying and Matthew was crippled and Mary was marrying a terrible man and he was...useless. In all of it he was unable to help anyone or anything, not his country, not his children, he was barely master of Downton.

Cora couldn't possibly know what it had felt like then for him. She couldn't understand how pointless his existence had seemed. She had flourished, she had been so full of purpose. As usual, she had adapted and he had floundered. No, her ridiculous behavior with Bricker was not born out of despair, as his mistake had been. Cora had been bored! And like a spoilt child, she had played with something she wasn't supposed to and did not want to reap the consequences.

Robert refused to be baited after that, tucking his blankets around himself. Of course Cora couldn't know. She had been assuming, and Robert had been equal parts irritated and relieved at the realization. He had crossed his arms and dug deeper into the discomfort of his dressing room bed, refusing to admit that maybe, upon deeper reflection, Cora's indiscretion had in fact not been as hurtful as his own. But then he waffled, recalling how many times he had warned her of Bricker's intent. No, Robert was not ready to forgive and move on.

Or so he had not been last night, but now, Mary saddling up to ride in the point-to-point, Cora looking so desperately unhappy, Robert's steadfast anger began to wither. Perhaps he was the cruel one. That wretched man's words came back to him, a haunting refrain that would whisper through his memory every now and then… _you can't be surprised. When you chose to ignore a woman like Cora, you must have known not every man would be as blind as you._ Even now the blood pulsed hotter in his veins just thinking of the gall of that...man. Those words had been more startling than the crush of his knuckles across Bricker's cheekbone.

Cora had not been ignored a day in their life together. He may have been awkwardly ill-equipped at being with her in the beginning, but ignored she never was. Was she?

Lifting his tea, Robert concentrated on the amber liquid before taking a long sip, thinking. Had he been ignoring her? The many tedious tasks of his day unfurled from his memory like a dusty scroll found in the attic. There was the Pimm's Corner question taking up most of his recent conversations, the Della Francesca, the fire and the clean up. Life had kept him busy, its business made him preoccupied, but so much so that Cora felt disregarded? Had she told that man this?

Venturing a look up at her again, any residual irritation unclenched his heart, leaving it bruised and achy. Cora was speaking to Isobel, looking up at her from her seated position, the spark gone from her dull and tired eyes. It took all of Robert's willpower not to reach across the table and clasp her hand.

 _Tonight_ , Robert thought, _tonight I will make it right_.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thank you everyone who has reviewed, followed or liked this story. I should have also included in the description that this is a bit of an AU. Hope you enjoy chapter 2!**

Cora rubbed her hands together, working the cream in viciously. Her stomach gurgled unhappily, filling the room with its protestations. What little she had been able to force down at dinner sat like a lump at the base of her throat. _Edith_. The poor dear had been woefully upset for so long and Cora berated herself for not seeing the reality of it sooner. It was difficult sometimes with Edith, she could be thorny and melancholy about so many things that often Cora just assumed it would all pass. It usually did. But now she was gone, to who knows where. _What kind of mother was she_?

Standing, Cora tugged hard at the ties of her dressing gown, frowning. Her own guilt mixed with anger as she mentally lashed out at Robert. He had bullied her into staying away when Edith received the news of Michael's death. At least, that's how it had felt. Every part of her had wanted to be there, standing by her daughter, supporting her, but then she'd looked at Robert's stony face. Instead, Cora had shrunk away and did as she was told, afraid of upsetting him further. Edith had needed her and she had let Robert's own grudge get in the way of that.

Face flushed and eyes stinging, Cora swallowed around the growing thickness in her throat. An anxious rap against the connecting door stopped Cora cold and she stood with the dressing gown bunched in her fists, too startled to place it in it's spot or put it back on. She didn't want to see him tonight.

Robert peered around the ajar door, his eyes darting around until they fell on her. He straightened up and cleared his throat, the muscle in his neck twitching. Slowly, Cora let the breath she was holding float from between her pursed lips. Carefully tearing her eyes away from Robert, she continued with her routine, ignoring the heat his scrutiny created.

Robert cleared his throat after the silence stretched too thin. "I just came to see...that is you looked...Are you alright?"

Cora couldn't control the angry snort that shot from her nose. She met Robert's widened eyes.

"My daughter is missing, my…" her words faltered as she waved her hand over their bed. How could she convey what was wrong with her? They didn't speak, they barely shared the same space with one another. Just one week of Robert's cold shoulder had left her feeling unmoored. And now Edith had run off. Another child gone, even if temporarily.

Cora was too tired to argue, however. "I'm fine, Robert. I have a rather bad headache though, so I'll say goodnight."

Robert's lips turned down, his hand gripping the door tighter. He did not move. "Would you like me to get you something?"

Any other night, any of the five other nights that preceded the long and heartbreaking days when he'd spent eighteen hours rebuffing her and she would have been at his feet, the kindness in his voice toppling her, making her grovel. But this night Cora was beaten and frantic and raw. She didn't want Robert's comfort. She wanted Edith, home and safe. It was the same panicky feeling that she'd had when the girls were little and they would get ahead of her in the village, disappearing around the corners of buildings or separated from her by other shoppers in their path. She'd lose her breath momentarily until she too rounded the building, or the crowd parted, and saw their white dresses billowing at their heels as they ran.

It was Cora's turn to look away from the concern etched around Robert's eyes. "No thank you, I just want to sleep."

Cora studied her bedside table, fidgeting with the lace coverlet protecting the wooden surface. From the corner of her eye she saw Robert. He had a particular way of standing when he was on the verge of saying something. Cora braced herself, waiting for the words he was forming in his head. Something kept him silent, possibly the tight set of her shoulders or her white knuckled grip on her book, but instead of speaking Robert stared at her for a moment more before slipping back behind the door, shutting it behind him softly. A tear slid from between her eyelids and Cora hastily brushed it away before shutting her light and burrowing into the bed.

* * *

 _Breathe, just breathe. You know how to do it. Inhale, exhale._

The smile on Cora's face was a caricature of itself, a mask of the shock that was taking her over from the inside outward. It sat frozen on her lips, distorting further with each of Mrs. Drewe's words. In that moment, even as she felt beaten by what Mrs Drewe said, everything suddenly seemed to make sense. Every odd request, every questionable absence, every fit of emotion finally had a logical, perfect explanation and Cora wondered how she had been so daft as to not see it.

Edith had a child. She had a baby girl with the missing, now dead, Mr. Gregson and the pig farmer was raising her. No wonder Edith had almost burnt the house down.

A few seconds of uncomfortable silence passed before Cora realized that Mrs. Drewe had stopped talking. The woman watched her expectantly, much of the fiery rage and bleeding heartache that she'd begun with had spent itself, leaving her looking tired and bereft. Cora knew both feelings well. The pain etched into the poor woman's taught shoulders twisted Cora's heart further. So much lying and suffering, Cora felt the responsibility of it fall heavily on her. Somehow she had failed Edith, and in turn, Edith had abused this woman. _If only Edith had come to her..._

"You didn't know…" Mrs. Drewe's comment caught Cora off guard. She stood still, not responding but Mrs. Drewe shook her head in wonderment.

"I thought you did. Once they told me who Marigold really was and I remembered the other lady coming to see her - ".

"What lady?" Cora interrupted, gripping her hands tighter.

"Red hair. Real sophisticated looking. Lady Edith said she was her aunt." Mrs. Drewe answered.

Cora's breath stuck in her lungs. _Switzerland! Rosamund!_

"Then the Dowager came round right after Lady Edith snatched...right after she took Marigold…" Mrs. Drewe struggled to control the hatred in her voice.

Cora struggled too, with the simple act of breathing. They'd all lied to her.

"I thought you were too ashamed and then I thought maybe she hadn't told you. But I didn't know for sure til just now. Your face." Mrs. Drewe explained.

Cora's voice finally found it's strength and it pushed from her lips. "Thank you for coming, Mrs. Drewe." Cora held her hand out and walked toward the door, ushering Mrs. Drewe to follow.

The woman's face contorted, astonished as she let herself be led. "That's all? That's all you have to say to me, milady?"

Cora winced. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Drewe. Truly I am, but I think you need to go now."

All but pushing the gaping woman out of the room, Cora hastily shut the door and leaned her forehead against the solid wood. She covered her mouth, ready to stifle her sobs for what seemed the hundredth time that week but nothing came out. Her hands shook violently, the trembling rippling up her arms and through her shoulders, but she did not make a sound.

* * *

The train sped along, the clicks and clacks of piston and wheel chugging dutifully down the miles and miles of track. Mary and Tom bantered with one another, a sibling-like language they had forged between them that made Robert's lip twitch upward in affection. Edith gazed out her window, no doubt fretting over her charge, the quiet toddler from the pig farm who looked eerily familiar. Robert's mind stalled on the thought of Marigold, and Edith's quiet obsession with her. He had been too preoccupied with Isis's health to really think through Edith and Cora's request that the child live with them, and so he had hastily left it in Cora's hands. The arrival of that little girl had been the only thing to draw a smile on Cora's face since, well, even before he'd given Bricker a black eye. Edith also seemed to be pulled from her gloom over Michael Gregson.

Robert sighed heavily, dragging his eyes away from his daughter and letting them fall across the table, where Cora sat. Her stare down at her teacup was intense, her brows furrowing above the bridge of her nose. With her attention elsewhere, Robert allowed himself to stare. As the Bricker affair receded deeper into the past, he found it more and more difficult to mend the rift between them. Each day he reproached himself for the missed opportunity in his dressing room, when Cora had offered him a chance at reconciliation, and he had not budged. Now, words failed him each time he set his mind to speak to Cora. And she continued to withdraw from him, not in any malicious way, but Robert could tell, could feel the distance she was placing between them.

His accommodation of her Marigold request hadn't been the catalyst of change he had hoped, however, and though Cora was kinder to him, it bordered on the politeness afforded to some acquaintance. He hadn't been invited back to her room and their conversations rarely strayed from banal subjects such as the weather or village gossip. The only breach in their new civility coming the eve of Isis's death, when Cora had let him and his loyal dog into her bed. When he had awoken in the morning, the dog was gone and Cora's warm hand was underneath his. It was hard to distinguish then what caused him greater grief, the passing of his dog or the longing he felt for his wife.

A sharp intake of breath stirred Robert from his ruminating and he looked across the table to see Cora, the creases around her eyes deepening, a pang of discomfort twisting her mouth.

"What is it?" Robert asked, immediately alerted and leaning forward in time to see her rubbing her tummy below the table. Cora's hand stilled once she noticed his eyes on her.

"Nothing," she said, forcing a smile. "Just the bumps of the ride."

Cora sat rigidly in her seat, her gaze falling again. The one hand that remained on the table fidgeted with the linen napkin, her delicate fingers rubbing and pushing at the fabric for no apparent purpose outside of distraction. The other still lay splayed on the flat plane of her stomach.

Robert leaned forward. "Cora, are you sure-".

"I think perhaps I just need to walk," Cora's voice sounded unnaturally high, her smile more a grimace. She stood slowly, cautiously straightening herself. Once fully upright, she let out a shaky breath. Robert put his weight on his feet, ready to stand with her.

"I'll go with you," Robert stated.

"No,no," Cora replied, patting his arm as she went by.

Her palm rested heavily on his shoulder before letting go. The loss of her touch left Robert cold. Turning in his seat, he watched Cora's back, her silhoutte further retreating toward the dining car, her gate stiff. He fought the urge to follow, though a nagging worry had him tapping his knees in agitation. They couldn't continue this way. If Robert hadn't been certain of it before, he was now.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I just realized that the break lines weren't coming through on the other two chapters. I am very sorry for the confusion! I've fixed them now and hopefully the chapters will make more sense going forward. Jeesh, I'm rusty! Anyway, thank you to all of you lovely souls who have taken the time to review! Your words are wonderful to read!**

The chuckling chortle of the car's engine rumbled through Cora's chest as she sat alert in the backseat. The vibration was soothing in a rhythmic sort of way, and the white noise lulled her into a little bit of a daze, as did the bucolic scenery that stretched past her window. The vice grip she had on her clutch loosened and Cora settled back further into the soft leather support of the seat. Luckily, Pratt preferred respectful silence over conversation while driving and so Cora was able to dwell in the oddly relaxing space of the car's back cabin.

When she had met with Dr Clarkson a month ago, the trouble in her belly growing in intensity and duration, the sharp edges of pain reaching up to her chest and knocking the wind out of her at times, he had met her symptoms with frank concern. Words like angina and degeneration and systolic pressure rang from his mouth like a death knell, ratcheting up her fears. Cora had gone to him with the hope of feeling better only to wonder if she was dying by the end of the appointment. It took Dr Clarkson hardly any time after her initial physical to phone up a specialist in London, the urgency with which he operated scaring her further.

Now, after so much anxious waiting, an answer. Not death, but stress. When Dr Albert had asked her if she'd had much of it in her life recently, Cora had almost laughed at the ironic absurdity of the question. _Oh no Doctor, a man only forced his way into my room, I'm estranged from my husband, my daughter has a secret child and the family dog died. But other than that, it's just been charity events and Charlotte Russe for me._

Truth be told, Cora had only a vague awareness of what an ulcer was, but Dr Albert had been very thorough in his kind, yet firm, directions. The dietary restrictions would be easy enough, getting to a place of internal peace would be altogether more difficult.

Naturally, her thoughts turned to Robert and the state they found their marriage in. While the hostile wall of silence he'd erected in the immediate aftermath of Bricker's intrusion had crumbled, they were still not right. Though now, Cora had to admit that it was her own fault as she continued to hide the truth behind Marigold's parentage. Distance granted her a little wiggle room, a chance to breathe without constant fear of letting the truth slip free from her mouth. Cora had tried to convince Edith to tell her father, confident Robert would be accepting of his little granddaughter, but Edith remained adamant. Her wishes had been ignored for so long, Cora was determined to let Edith have her way. She only worried that her role in this duplicity would further strain she and Robert's fragile relationship once he found out.

A spark of pain flared in her mid section and Cora bit her lip, rubbing the offending spot and shaking her head, as though trying to dislodge the tumbling, troublesome thoughts that seemed determined to dog her. After a few measured breaths, the pain settled into a dull ache and Cora swallowed down the burning aftertaste that followed the ulcer's flair ups.

The movement beneath her changed momentum and Cora looked up to find Downton's stone walls looming outside of the car windows. She waited for Pratt to climb out of the seat and appear at her door. Unconsciously, she took his proffered hand, mentally stumbling around for an excuse to explain her absence to Robert. Nothing seemed to fit, the episode Robert witnessed on the train a few weeks prior producing an increasing scrutiny Cora found harder and harder to dodge.

Before she was fully aware that her steps had carried her the few paces from the car to the house, Cora was through the door and Robert was by her elbow, a frown pulling down at his face. Her heart sped up and Cora had to forcefully refrain from putting her hand on her chest. She despised all of this intrigue, lying had always made her panicky and uncomfortable.

"Where have you been?" Robert took no time cutting to the question that had been plaguing him.

Cora stumbled. "Uh...well, I had a...doctor's appointment."

Robert's eyebrows shot up. "Nothing serious I hope."

Cora shook her head. "Womanly...things."

Cora bit down on the snicker threatening to escape her lips as Robert tried to hide the recoil her words prompted. "Oh..hmm...I see."

Cora patted his arm. "The train ride was not at all comfortable though, so I am going to rest a bit before the gong." Cora turned to leave, breathing out in relief, when Robert interrupted her.

"Train ride, you say?" Cora froze, her back going rigid. "But wouldn't you have gone to Clarkson?"

The floor seemed to ripple under her feet, her heart throbbing spastically in her throat. Cora couldn't think of a response. She couldn't speak. Whatever was she lying for anyway?

Robert was in front of her before she could say anything, leaning to look into her face. "Well, did you go to London? That makes it quite worrisome, then?"

"Robert, really," Cora deflected, waving her hand nonchalantly, though she was sure he would see the tremble in her fingers. "It isn't. I don't want to bore you. You do not like discussing these things."

Cora went to leave but Robert's gentle touch upon her arm stilled her movement.

"You would tell me, wouldn't you?" Robert's question was soft, a slight note of pleading under his words. "I….".

Cora looked up, blinking away the moisture that sprung to her eyes. Robert's gaze was tender as his tongue darted out and he licked his lips, lips that almost mouthed the words Cora knew he wanted to say. She felt faint in a strangely bittersweet way. Desperately she wanted to fall against him, to crush him in her arms and have him do the same. She needed him. But she was too afraid, afraid that forgiveness and reconciliation would be short lived, only to be shattered once he found out the secret she harbored for Edith. Cora didn't think she could survive another falling out. If they never got back to where they had once been, perhaps the hurt wouldn't be as great.

Taking a step back, Cora squeezed Robert's hand briefly as it fell. She smiled shyly and ducked away from his eyes. "I'm fine Robert, I promise."

And as quickly as she could without raising more suspicion, Cora ascended the stairs.

* * *

Robert could feel his eyes yawning toward the ceiling, the muscles stretching as violently as his patience. It was in the dressing and disrobing that Robert missed Bates most. Thomas could be so dramatic in the prolonged performance of his duties, as though taking double the time would make him more valuable. He was terribly eager to check in on Cora, though he'd only really just left her. The level of her drunkenness surprised him, when Mary had finally called his attention to it. She'd barely made it through the last carol, swaying at his side, before he'd determined she'd had enough merriment and half carried her up the stairs, depositing her in her bedroom with Baxter. It hadn't gone beyond his notice that she'd abstained from drink lately, not that she had ever been an overindulger. The Christmas festivities had apparently put an end to Cora's teetotalling, however, for Robert couldn't remember the last time he had seen her so inebriated. She had been so out of sorts lately, Robert couldn't quite put his finger on it. No alcohol was only the tip of the strange behavior. Cora seemed happy, but...different. Jumpy. A nervous energy that had her in a constant buzz of motion.

"Is that all milord?" Thomas asked with a honeyed tone that made Robert cringe.

"Yes, yes," Robert snapped, tugging his robe on tightly and making his way towards the dividing door, Thomas quickly forgotten.

He was sure he knocked before just barging in, though perhaps the noise did not reach her as Cora remained with her back to him, fumbling with the ties of the dressing gown she wore. Getting frustrated with the knot tied by her own hand, she attempted to wiggle free of the clothing, pulling one slender arm out of the top before following it with the other. A delicate pool of fabric now bunched at her waist, the knot of the belt reemerging as a foe. While Cora futily wrestled with it, Robert took a moment to study her. It had been so long since he had seen her like this, vulnerable and bare. What he had suspected, that she had grown thinner, was now confirmed, the new leanness he'd detected in her face echoed in the sinewy lines of her back, clad only in a nightgown. As if Cora could afford to lose any weight. Robert's heart cramped in his chest, his resolve strengthening.

Cora was still unaware of his presence but had given up the fight with her garments, letting the belt of her dressing gown float away from her hands. She slumped forward, her head falling to her chest. It was then that Robert laid his hands on the bare skin of her exposed shoulders. She jerked at his touch, whipping around so fast that it tipped her off balance. Robert caught Cora by her arms, keeping her upright. The alarm on her face quickly faded when she saw that it was him and it confused Robert. Who did she think it would be?

"You're shaking," Robert observed. "I should have announced myself."

Robert watched as Cora quickly gathered her control. "It's alright. I'm fine."

And it was true, he could see. The little fright seemed to speed up her sobriety, but still, concern nagged at him, so many little things that didn't seem right about her lately. The guilt of his actions toward her was beginning to be unbearable. How had he let it go on for so long?

"Darling," Robert crooned, stepping toward Cora carefully. Her eyes fluttered closed and Robert gathered her in his arms. She resisted for a heartbeat, before melting against him.

It felt like the first time he had held her, the anticipation of her touch building throughout their acquaintance, and then courtship. Robert recalled the memory clearly, as though it had just taken place. It was the evening before she was to go back to America, the separation they would endure before the wedding suddenly feeling insurmountably long. He remembered being in a state of agitation all day, unable to point to its cause until after dinner, when the men joined the women and Martha mentioned the lateness of the hour, and the need for she and Cora to rest up for their journey in the morning. The words stoked the melancholy hanging over him and he had watched unhappily as they left the drawing room and mounted the stairs. Robert had only waited a minute or so before tiptoeing after her, catching Cora alone in the corridor and pulling her into a dark corner. He'd swept her up into his embrace and the feel of her, her body against his, was like bursting out of a cage into the great wide open of freedom.

"My darling, my darling," Robert whispered, holding her closer, stroking her back.

Cora tucked her head into the cavern of his neck, her tears bathing his skin. The show of her emotions left Robert furious with his own stubbornness. How idiotic he had been to doubt her, to punish her so?

"Stay with me?" Cora's voice vibrated against his jaw, her words cracking and tinged with fear.

"Always," Robert replied, tilting her head up and kissing her waiting lips.


	4. Chapter 4

Robert nodded to Carson before taking up his teacup and stirring its contents. Turning around, he surveyed the room, the domestic simplicity of tea time making it a favorite part of his day. The only wrinkle in the serenity, Tom and Sybbie's absence. It was at this time especially, when Robert could imagine Sybbie lying on the floor playing checkers with him, her feet crossed behind her and her little forehead screwed in concentration, that the pain of missing them was as acute as the day they left for Boston. Little George was a blessing, and even Marigold's presence was a slight balm, but Sybbie was gone and it still hurt Robert to confront it.

Sighing, he took a sip of tea before settling into the sofa across from Edith and Marigold. Looking about the room, Robert seemed to be stuck with his own company, Edith and Marigold whispering to one another and Mary reading George a picture book in the far corner. His hand spread to his side, where Cora should be, and he grunted, unhappy that an early morning meeting had taken her away from them. The scuttle with the hospital was reaching a climax, Robert could feel it. He had warned her off of it, knowing any fight with his mother was futile, but it had become Cora's cause, and she threw herself at it with the usual zeal and enthusiasm she met most things. It was admirable that she cared so much, and Cora was always happiest when she felt she was being useful, but Robert did not like how heated the argument was getting. Or that she was spending all day touring the York hospital and then meeting with the board. He missed her by his side.

His thoughts turning him grumpy, Robert refocused his attention to Edith and Marigold. They made a cozy twosome. He couldn't hear the intimate conversation they were having, but Marigold looked peaceful and happy nestled in Edith's lap. Love shined through every feature of Edith's face as she moved a piece of Marigold's hair off of her forehead. Robert was thankful that the little girl had taken Edith out of the funk she had been in over Michael Gregson, but the strength of their bond puzzled him. How had a little orphan brought out such a maternal response in Edith? Even Sybbie as a baby hadn't made her aunt swoon as Marigold did, and they were each other's blood. Seeing the two together, he was reminded of Cora when the girls were young, her devotion to their every move and want, the joy she radiated just being in their presence.

Thinking of Cora only made Robert wish she was enjoying tea with them all the more, and his wanting fell heavy in his chest. Grumbling once again, he glanced up to find Marigold watching him. Letting a kind smile tease his face, the shy girl smirked at him before quickly burying her face into the safety of Edith's neck. _So like Edith,_ Robert thought. Memories of little Edith flashed through his mind, hiding herself in folds of Cora's skirts, Cora's delicate hand smoothing over her flaxen ringlets in comfort.

 _So like Edith…_.and yet...not. The eyes, the eyes were someone else's.

 _Michael Gregson._

Robert's grip tightened dangerously around the fragile handle of his teacup. His head popped up in time to see Marigold staring at him again. Suddenly, the haze that had been clogging his vision dissolved and he saw it all very clearly. Since her arrival, something had bothered Robert about the girl. He hadn't been able to reconcile the devotion Edith had to her with the bizarre story of their acquaintance to one another.

And not only Edith. Cora. She so clearly had fallen for the child, was as devoted to her well-being as George's and Sybbie's, but she always fidgeted and squirmed whenever Robert brought her up in conversation. She would steer the topic onto something else, every time. Cora had many gifts and skills, lying had never been one of them. Her behavior had needled him, poking at his conscious and making him suspicious, of what he hadn't been entirely certain. Until now.

One thing he was sure of...Cora knew from the start who Marigold's parents were...and she had kept it from him.

* * *

The salon was quiet as Cora entered the house, and for that she was grateful. The throbbing in her head demanded the softness of her bed and the darkness of her room before she could even consider dressing for dinner. Cora placed her hand on the banister and took the first step, wishing she were already up the stairs.

"Milday," Even Carson's deep baritone aggravated the pain in her head, making her teeth ache.

"Yes?" Cora responded tiredly.

"Lady Mary asked that you look in on the library when you returned."

Sighing, Cora came off of the stairs and crossed the room, hoping whatever Mary needed wouldn't take long. The last thing she wanted was to get into another argument about Carson and Mrs Hughes's upcoming wedding. One scathing battle was enough for today.

Cora opened the door to find Mary, Edith and Robert overlooking some papers. Three pairs of eyes glanced up, the impassive look on Robert's face triggering a responding clench in her belly. She knew that look well, something was not right.

"I'm back," Cora announced. "But I'm going upstairs to get straight. And to calm down."

"How was your meeting?" The carefree tone of Edith's words set Cora at ease slightly, though Robert's affect continued to be stony.

"Ghastly." Cora replied. Robert glanced up. "I'm going to rest before dinner."

Cora thought she heard Mary's voice as she closed the door, but hoping that it wasn't anything that couldn't wait, she continued toward the stairs. Robert's demeanor bothered her, however, and she mulled over the meaning. Perhaps it had nothing to do with her at all, Cora tried to assure herself. It felt traitorous to hope some glitch had occurred with the Pimm's Corner project, but she couldn't help it. Though she had worried about keeping Edith's secret, Cora was so much happier now that she and Robert were reconciled.

Opening the door of her room, Cora was startled to see Mrs. Hughes, Anna and Baxter in her private space. The tableaux made her pause, her own bewilderment stealing her voice, until she realized Mrs Hughes was wearing one of her coats.

"Excuse me, will someone explain to me what is going on here?" Cora demanded.

"Didn't Lady Mary tell you, milady?" Anna stuttered.

"Tell me what?" Cora snapped, the pain in her head exacerbated by the increasing level of her dismay.

"That Mrs. Hughes is going to borrow one of your coats to be married in." Baxter explained.

Mary. Of course. She only felt herself get angrier. Mary and Mama were too similar in their absolute dismissal of her. It was infuriating and she was tired of being bullied by both of them.

"Was I to have any say in this as you rifle through my cupboards?" Cora asked.

"Your Ladyship, there's obviously been a misunderstanding." Mrs Hughes interjected, the color rising in her cheeks.

"I'm surprised at you, Mrs Hughes." Cora scolded. "This is not the kind of behavior I would look for from you."

"We'll hang them up at once and leave you in peace." Mrs Hughes replied quickly.

"Lady Mary said-".

"Lady Mary may dispose of her own clothes as she sees fit." Cora hissed. "But I do not know what gives her the right to dispose of mine. Now please leave me. I have a headache and I need to lie down."

The three women scurried around the room, each trying to get past her and out as quickly as they could. Once the door was shut, Cora let out a breath, pinching the bridge of her nose hard. Remorse was already creeping in, pushing away the fury and leaving her with a sour taste. She had lashed out at the staff unnecessarily, another conflict she was ill-equipped to navigate.

Tugging the hat off of her head and slipping out of her coat, she left both in a pile on her floor. Cora had almost made it to bed before there was a rap on the door. Groaning, Cora's body sagged in response to the coming interruption. The door swung open, Robert filling in the space of the door frame. No smile preceded his entry and he shuttered them off from the rest of the house swifty, the door rattling in the jam as it slammed. Cora clutched her hands in front of her, jutting her chin out in a show of strength for whatever was to come, but dread filled her inside.

"Were you ever going to tell me?" His voice was controlled, measured, but his nostrils flared as he spoke them.

Cora was glad, really, that it was finally out. It had been too much of a burden. She opened her mouth to speak, but Robert shook his head, moving closer.

"I don't understand the lies, Cora. You let that little girl come here to live, you watch as I treat her with civility, and all the while she is my _granddaughter_!" Robert's voice did not rise, as Cora expected, it broke on the last word instead. His hurt at her deceit was worse than his ire.

The pain in her side, dormant for the last few months, flared unexpectedly, pinching off the air from her lungs for a number of excruciatingly long seconds. Cora stood frozen, waiting for oxygen to fill her chest again, her silence allowing Robert to continue his pain-filled accusations. Luckily, she could not comprehend any of it over her own distress.

"I'm sorry." Finally, she was able to speak, her words coming out in a watery flood. "I'm so sorry. I've wanted to tell you for so long. I've been sick over it, Robert. I have! But it wasn't my secret to tell."

Robert quieted, staring at her with his jaw squared, unmoved by her response.

"I've been terribly unfair to you," Cora's voice cracked, "and I've no right to ask you to forgive me after everything else that's happened-".

Robert looked at her for a long pause before answering. "I wonder if you do."

Cora's chest constricted with a held breath. Though she punished herself for her duplicity, though she'd agonized over this exact scenario a hundred times since finding out about Marigold, she'd hoped he'd find a way to look past her actions. When Robert continued to hold his tongue, when disappointment chased away hurt and clouded his face, Cora knew his next move would be to turn and leave her room. Another open ended argument, another string of endless days when the they did not speak to one another. And again, she had brought it on herself.

"Robert…" Cora spoke softly, reaching her hand out to touch him.

Robert took a step back. "I have some thinking to do. And I think I need to speak with Edith."

"Don't be angry with her, she's suffered enough," Cora responded quickly, protecting her daughter a habit that came instinctively.

"I don't understand the lying, Cora." Robert repeated, shaking his head. "I just don't understand all of this intentional deception."

Cora folded her arms across her middle. "That isn't fair! I've never been willfully deceitful to you. I never lied to you about Mr. Bricker, and I couldn't tell-".

"How do I know that now?" Robert asked.

Cora was stupefied. The blow of his words feeling as real as a physical slap. "You said it yourself not long ago that you were sorry you didn't trust me."

"Because then I didn't know you to be purposefully lying to me." Robert countered.

"But I wasn't! Edith has been so abused throughout this, Robert. I couldn't go against her wishes!" Cora explained.

Robert held up his hand as Cora began to speak again. "This isn't helpful. Perhaps I should leave you be before dinner."

Her mouth hung open, slack. Robert stared at her, and then nodded, as though finding an answer to an unasked question. Pivoting abruptly, Robert's purposeful strides brought him to the door. Before Cora could think too long she ran after him.

"Please Robert," Cora begged, hanging on lightly to the sleeve of his jacket.

"Cora, don't make this more difficult," Robert answered, before shaking her off and leaving her room.

* * *

 **A/N: Thank you, thank you, thank you all for going along with me on this strange little journey I am setting up for our darlings. All of the reviews have been marvelous. I hope you enjoyed this chapter as we continue to veer away from canon. I _adore_ Robert, but I don't think he would have been so easily maneuvered into reconciliation with Cora after the Bricker incident, as they portrayed on the show. I've already explored the possibility that he would have reacted differently in previous chapters and so in this chapter I've explored an alternative to how he would have taken the news of Marigold, particularly that Cora was in on it. Now, in the show he finds out much earlier in the timeline than in this story, so perhaps it was that the shortness of the 'lie' that helped him joke about being in on the secret instead of feeling betrayed. But...having your grandchild brought in to live with you and then having her true identity kept a secret from you feels like it should warrant some anger, no matter how good the intentions. **


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Thank you all so, so much for your reviews!**

Seeing Carson and Mrs Hughes at the altar, exchanging words of love and promises of devotion, Robert couldn't help but feel as though he were viewing the world through a warped looking glass. It seemed all too surreal, his butler and housekeeper entwining their lives together for eternity. How had their romance bloomed right under his nose? Robert was pleased for them but their happiness highlighted the recent troubles between he and Cora.

The Marigold secret had triggered an irrational response, he could admit now that he'd had time to stew over it. When he had approached Edith, she had asked him for his forgiveness and he was quick to give it, even conceding that he needed some of hers. But forgiving Cora for her part hadn't come as naturally, and Robert couldn't reason why.

As Carson and Mrs Hughes continued with their adoring gazes and their softly spoken vows, Robert's eyes slid to his right, chancing a glance at Cora. Her face was angled straight ahead, her attention transfixed on the bride and groom. Even from his furtive position he could see her large blue irises swimming in pools of unshed tears. Weddings had always touched Cora in this way, and as he had seen a hundred times before, she stealthy unhinged her clutch and took out one of her lacey handkerchiefs, gracefully dabbing at the corners of her eyes. Without thought to their estrangement, Robert snatched up the hand closest to him and squeezed her gloved fingers. Cora's eyes skittered to his face and a startled smile tugged the corners of her mouth. Robert's own features relaxed and he turned back to the couple, keeping Cora's hand locked in his own.

They stayed that way until the end of the ceremony, the newly married Carsons beaming and leading the procession out of the church. Robert stood, letting go of Cora's hand and waiting at the end of the aisle to let her pass. Walking behind her, Robert placed his palm against the small of her back. Once outside the church, guests lingered, the men engaging in small talk while the women gushed about the beauty of the ceremony. Robert guided Cora's hand into the crook of his elbow as they followed the procession to the schoolhouse. Her immediate acceptance of him, the way she so easily let him dictate the state of their relationship, did not make him feel strong, but remorseful.

Robert didn't like this pattern they had fallen into lately, fighting and making up only to fall out over something else. Perhaps they needed a holiday to get on the right path again! Robert couldn't remember the last time they had gotten away, just the two of them. A plan already forming in his head, Robert vowed to mention it to Cora that evening,.

The schoolhouse had been transformed into the setting of a quaint and tasteful reception. Robert conceded that it was more in line with Mrs Hughes's personality than the elaborate affair a fete at Downton would have turned out to be. Cora had been right to advocate so eloquently for the woman. Taking Mary on was no small feat. Cora, who desperately despised discord and strived for perfect harmony at all times, had found herself embroiled in nothing but strife lately. Through it all Cora's grace had not been ruffled, but even Robert could tell the fighting on so many fronts was taking its toll. Robert took a step closer to her, letting his fingers rub a featherlight trail down her spine. Yes, a holiday was long overdue.

Cora continued to talk quietly with the girls, but leaned back into his touch, and again he felt like a cad at how easily she seemed to forgive his bad temperament of the day before. She deserved better.

Carson lifted up a glass and Robert quickly fetched champagne for himself and Cora. As Carson delivered a heartfelt speech about his bride, Robert felt flush. Carson's words stirred his own emotions. He loved Cora, very much so. There was never any doubt of it. Robert wondered if that was why he could act so unreasonable with her at times.

His contemplations, and Carson's outpouring, were abruptly interrupted by Tom.

Robert whipped around to see his son-in-law and granddaughter standing in the doorway and he had to blink several times to dispel the fear that they were a mirage. When Tom continued to explain their appearance, Robert's chest swelled. The last thing he had expected was to see them and he couldn't tame the large grin he felt pulling his face. Robert listened in as Tom spoke with Mary and Edith. He looked past them and focused on Cora, swaying with Sybbie in her arms and he could barely swallow past the constriction in his throat. Choked up with happiness, yesterday's turbulence faded away.

A carefree energy permeated the library as Thomas passed around after dinner drinks, an indulgence they hardly partook in, but the occasion seemed fitting. Robert lightened the tray Barrow carried by plucking two cocktails from it. He could feel the disapproval radiating off of Mama, and it was no great shock when she asked Andrew to fetch her coat and have the car brought round. Robert changed his intended route to give her a peck on her cheek, ignoring the hard look she gave the cocktails in his hands. His high spirit wouldn't be ruined by her judgement. Tom and Sybbie were back, and he was ready to truly put all of the unpleasantness of the last few months behind him. Though he still didn't like the idea of secrets between he and Cora, he was beginning to understand why she hadn't told him about Marigold. After his talk with Edith, it was easy to see the pain she'd endured, and the spot she'd put Cora in.

Cora sat removed from the group, leaning in to make a show of listening to Tom's stories of life in Boston, but her eyes were unfocused, her attention clearly tuned into something else. Her faraway look took some of the zest out of his step. Robert couldn't deny that he was most likely to blame for her muted mood.

Robert stood by her side, waiting, and it took a moment before Cora was aware of his presence, flinching in surprise as he came into her view, arm extended and glass placed within her grasp. Glancing up, Cora smiled hesitantly before taking it and pulling a small sip from the rim. The shudder that rippled over her body as the alcohol worked its way down did not go unnoticed and Robert took his own tentative taste, shrugging when he didn't find it to be overly strong. Robert let himself sink into the cushion next to Cora and she turned, meeting his eyes, holding his gaze. She was letting him take the first step, he knew, rightfully unsure of his intentions. They hadn't properly spoken, just the two of them, since the ceremony. His physical reconciliation had not been rebuffed, but he owed it to her to explain himself.

Robert glanced down to where her hands rested in her lap and he discreetly reached out, tracing a line across the fine bones of her fingers. Cora's chest swelled up as she held in an expectant breath.

"I'm sorry for the way I reacted last night. I-".

"You don't have to apologize." Cora rushed in, trying to smooth it all over. Robert was instantly endeared and irritated. Endeared with her, irritated at his own bullheadedness.

"I do," Robert insisted. "While I don't condone keeping things from one another, I can see why you did it. I should have stayed and we should have talked it out."

Cora closed her eyes and exhaled. When she opened them Robert could see the evidence of unshed tears, wetness finding its way into the creases around her eyes.

"I feel as though I'm terribly disappointing lately." Cora said, a sad laugh carrying the end of her words.

"What?!" Robert exclaimed, shifting closer, their knees now touching. Her chin trembled. "You cannot be serious!"

Cora frowned. "I kept Marigold's identity from you, at a time you were missing Sybbie so. You were right about...Mr. Bricker. I ruined the Della Francesca-".

"There is not now, nor ever has been, anything you've ruined for me," Robert interrupted.

He couldn't quite believe Cora harbored such unkind thoughts about herself and he clasped her hands hard in his.

"I don't like to hear this kind of talk from you," Robert told her firmly, placing a chaste kiss on the tip of her nose. "I meant what I said all of those months ago to a table full of...well, mostly strangers!"

Cora's responding giggle still held a hint of the tears that threatened but her smile was widening.

"You are the best companion in the world. My wife. My Cora." Robert finished quietly.

"Oh Robert," Cora responded, her eyelids fluttering and pink staining her cheeks.

Robert tilted the last of his drink back, placed the glass on the small table near by, and rose, taking Cora along with him.

"We'll say goodnight," Robert announced. Mary, Edith, and Tom, who had virtually forgotten about their presence, all looked up. Tom rose.

"It's good to have you back!" Robert bellowed, clapping the young man's arm heartily.

"Goodnight girls, Tom." Cora said softly, leaning in as Tom kissed her.

Pulling Cora out into the hallway, Robert tucked them into a shadowed corner near the stairs, spun her around and enveloped her in his embrace. Robert could feel the vibration of Cora's surprised chuckle in his ribcage and he joined her, unable to contain the warmth holding her close ignited.

"What's gotten into you?" Cora asked happily into his ear.

Robert's answer was a kiss to her forehead. And then, when that wasn't enough, when the taste of her skin on his lips only fueled a more urgent need, he tenderly clasped her chin, tilting her head up and slowly met her mouth with his own. She allowed him in, without any resistance, despite all of his recent churlish behavior. If his desire for her weren't pulsing through his veins like a storm surge against a bulging dam he would spend the night begging for her forgiveness. As it was, Robert decided to show her all night long how truly sorry he was.

"It is...time...to go...to bed," Robert said in between strategically placed kisses to Cora's long neck.

Cora hummed under his attention, the melody of her contentment pushing Robert close to the edge of decorum. He let his hands roam over her body and Cora allowed it for a moment before playfully swatting him away. Whimpering, Robert grabbed her hand once again, running up the stairs, Cora laughing as she attempted to keep up with him.

"Ah, your Lordship," Bates greeted them, suddenly popping out of Robert's dressing room. Robert dropped Cora's hand and took a step away.

"Eh, Bates!" Robert replied too loudly.

"Are you ready to retire, milord?" Bates inquired.

Robert sucked in a breath, his pulse still beating harshly in his neck.

"Yes, I think he is." Cora answered sweetly. She placed her hand on his shoulder. "I'll see you in a few moments, darling."

Groaning, Robert watched Cora disappear behind her own door. Glancing down at his trousers, the uncomfortable tightness there could not be seen, thankfully. Still, Robert was left in a predicament. Panic alone could not entice his body to forget the feel of Cora, and like a soldier gone rogue, his mind refused to stop imagining all of the terrific fun they would have. How could he allow Bates to undress him when he was so aroused? The thought of it should be enough to deflate any ardor, but it wasn't working, as though his body were stuck in the state Cora brought on. The only remedy was to have her.

"Say, Bates, why don't you turn in? I'm not...that is...well, her Ladyship…" Robert stuttered, scrambling for some excuse. "I've a phone call to make. I just remembered. The number is in her Ladyship's room, so I'm going to get it and then go down. I don't want to keep you up!"

Bates's eyes narrowed but he nodded. "Very well, milord. I'll see in the morning."

"Yes, yes," Robert replied. "Goodnight."

Robert hurried into his dressing room, tearing off cufflinks, collars and shoes. He tripped out of his pants, banged his knee on the bedpost and cursed loudly. Still, Robert was intent on changing out of his garments, and without lingering too long on the throbbing bruise quickly forming on his leg, he tossed aside the rest of his clothes. Rummaging through his cupboards, he climbed into the silk pajamas Cora had given him for Christmas. He smirked as he fumbled with the buttons, wondering why he bothered when the item would be off in a matter of minutes. He hoped, anyway.

Finally dressed, Robert burst through the door, only to be confronted with silence, the room sealed off and the air undisturbed. Head darting around on his neck as he looked about the room, his vision rested on the bed, and Robert's shoulders slumped down with disappointment.

Cora's back was to him, her legs and arms curled up in sleep. Angling his ear forward, he could make out the faint hint of her steady breathing. Sighing, he quietly tiptoed to where she rested and looked down. His disappointment did not linger, how could it, seeing her so peaceful and unguarded, almost girlish in the way she'd just fallen into sleep atop her bed, still clad in her evening dress. It was clear she needed the rest.

Carefully, Robert slipped off her shoes. Grasping the edge of the blankets, Robert wiggled them down from under Cora's body. She remained undisturbed from the slight jostling and he wondered if he shouldn't undress her as well. Thinking better of it, Robert covered her with the bedclothes, making a few passes up and down her arm with his hand.

Bending down, Robert studied how the tiara she wore disappeared into her curls. Pinching two of the diamond-studded points, he tweaked the adornment, shimmying it free of Cora's hair with more finesse than he thought himself capable of. The teardrop pearls in the tiara jangled angrily when Robert placed it on the table of Cora's vanity, as if offended by his choice of resting place. Baxter could sort it out in the morning, Robert decided, before extinguishing the light and climbing into the bed behind Cora. The mattress dipped down under the weight of his body and Robert patted the girth of his belly, simultaneously thinking that he never mentioned the idea of a holiday to Cora and that he could stand to lose a stone, perhaps even two.

Twisting under the covers, Robert scooted closer to Cora's back and wrapped his arm around Cora's waist, buried his nose between her shoulder blades, and followed her into sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Thank you again to everyone following this story and going down this strange AU road with me. Trigger warning ahead for blood (you knew it was coming).**

Cora's nails bit into the flesh of her legs as she tightened her hold, inhaling and exhaling slowly through the pain in her stomach. More blistering than it had ever been, the discomfort was now accompanied by an increasing nausea that made Cora's vision blur and she screwed her eyes closed. It couldn't be denied any longer, she realized. Her body was demanding that she concede she was sick beyond her ability to heal herself.

 _Tomorrow_ , she decided, tomorrow she would call Dr. Albert for a consultation. Her obstacle for this evening would be to get through the dinner party awaiting her downstairs and the ensuing battle of wits with Mama and the Minister of Health.

"Cora?" Robert's voice was close to her ear and Cora's eyes sprung open to reveal his furrowed brow and frown as he held her gaze. "What's wrong?"

Cora sighed, she felt too poorly to try and hide it. "I don't feel particularly well, Robert, if truth be told."

Robert squated lower, his eyes going wide and taking stock of her face. "What is it?" The urgency in his voice made Cora temper her response.

"Just a hint of nausea. Perhaps it was something I ate?" Cora attempted a smile but Robert's frown deepend.

"Well, then, we're cancelling." Robert stated, straightening up.

Cora rolled her eyes and stood up. "Don't be silly, everyone is literally enroute here. I wouldn't be surprised if Mama weren't already in the library causing trouble. Or plotting sabotage."

"I don't give one fig about it!" Robert's voice rose. " I knew it Cora, I told you not to get involved in this hospital fiasco and now it's made you sick."

"Don't be angry-."

"I'm not!" Robert yelled, interrupting her. He shook his head and placed his hands on her shoulders, kneading the knobby muscles lightly. "I'm not angry. I'm concerned."

Cora flexed onto her toes and placed a kiss on his cheek. "And I'm flattered, but really, it will pass. Let us just get through this dinner!"

"Hmph," Robert grumbled. "Fine, but then we are seriously discussing a holiday, just you and I."

"That sounds divine," Cora exhaled, stifling any sign of a grimace. "Why don't you go down ahead of me. I'll be right there."

Robert hesitated. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, yes." Cora answered. "Please, before Mama tries to gain some sort of advantage in my absence."

"Alright, but I mean it Cora. After tonight this hospital business needs to be left in Mama and Isobel's hands." Robert said emphatically.

Knowing that Robert's wishes came from a place of regard for her health didn't help the immediate surge of irritation she experienced at being told what to do. She was a grown woman after all. Cora clamped her mouth shut however, not wanting to start the evening with an argument between she and Robert. She could only hope to steer Mr. Chamberlain towards her and Isobel's thinking. If they could prevail, the hospital issue would be settled quickly. It was the right thing for the village, Cora was certain of it, and she wasn't about to let a silly ulcer erase all of her hard work in moving health care at Downton Village Hospital toward the future. Surely, she could deal with the nuisance of her stomach for one more night.

Robert left her room and Cora went to her bedside table. Opening the draw, she withdrew the bottle Dr. Clarkson had given her last year. She fumbled with the cap, the tremor in her hand increasing as another sharp twinge bit at her side. Eventually, Cora was able to force the bottle open and she shook a capsule out, placed it on her tongue and swallowed. The bicarbonate fizzled in her mouth as it dissolved, and though they hadn't worked for weeks in dulling the pain, Cora hoped tonight would be an exception.

* * *

Robert chewed his food slowly. Mama spoke to his left, her words a dagger to the argument Isobel was attempting to make, delivered with a surgeon's precision. They had been sparring in this way since the beginning of dinner, and though Robert was aware of the increasing vitriol, and the uncomfortable embarrassment creeping into Mr. Chamberlain's face, his attention was centered on Cora. She'd grown paler during the evening, choosing to remain mostly silent though she had many strong opinions on the matter. He could tell by the strain of her features that whatever was ailing her hadn't gone away, if anything it had gotten worse. Robert clenched his fist around the fork in his hand. The arguing continued in the background and he had an almost uncontrollable urge to order them all out of the house. As it was, the constant bickering was turning his own stomach, he could only imagine how it was making Cora feel.

"Can't we stop this beastly row?" Robert asked in exasperation.

"How I wish we could," Mama responded mournfully, as though she weren't getting a thrill at the debate and had no control over her own participation.

Robert leaned forward, intending to demand a stop to all of the contentious litigation of the hospital issue, when Cora stood. Leaning back in confusion, Robert bit back his words. Their eyes met briefly, he looking up at her and she looking down. He lingered on how blue they seemed, almost unnaturally so. The irises were only tiny pin pricks. A shiver ran down Robert's spine, there was something in her eyes that put him on alert. She looked frightened and her hand was balled into a fist, pressing hard into her stomach. Robert pushed his chair back, ready to stand, a flutter of anxiety propelling his actions.

"I'm terribly sorry…". Robert could barely hear Cora above the clanking of dishes and the continued hiss of discord.

"Darling…" Robert answered, watching the little color that remained in her face drain away.

The next sound Cora made was somewhere between a cough and a gag and before Robert could think or react there was blood. It splattered across the white linen, marking the fabric like a child's painting on a canvas. Something wet hit his face, his chest, but Robert couldn't move. His mind screamed at him to stand, to run and save her, though he didn't know what from, as Cora continued to vomit red across the dining room. Time stuttered, slowing down to an exaggerated crawl and all Robert could do was watch, every muscle in his body seized. Except for his heart, it hammered wildly in his chest as the horror unfolded before him.

Abruptly, the noise of the room was cut off, the convulsions wracking Cora's body stopped. Robert felt oddly disengaged, though his pulse quivered harshly in his neck, as though he were in the audience of a play. This couldn't really be Cora, covered in her own blood, head lolling back, feebly trying to grip the table as her knees gave way and she fell backwards. It was the noise of her body hitting the floor, the dull thud reverberating off the walls that snapped Robert out of whatever fugue he'd been trapped in. Time snapped back like an elastic, speeding up and the dining room erupted into chaos once more, with chairs scraping back and Dr. Clarskon and Isobel clamoring over to the other side of the table. Edith's voice called out her mother's name over and over. His own mother clutched his arm, as stunned as he was. Still, Robert couldn't will himself to get up.

"Thomas, on her left side!" Robert was vaguely aware of Clarkson's barked order to the under butler.

"Give me napkins." Someone else shouted. Isobel? He couldn't see any of them, the table hiding his view. He couldn't see Cora.

"I'll call the ambulance," Carson's voice shook. Had Robert ever heard it quiver so before?

"Keep her warm." More orders from Clarkson.

"Take my coat." Tom struggled with his jacket and pushed a dumbfounded Minister of Health out of his way.

It was the look on the stranger's face, as Mr. Chamberlain continued to sit dazed, staring blindly at the floor where Robert could only imagine Cora laid, that worked to rouse him. Pushing away from the table in a scrabble of motion, Robert tripped over the edges of the carpeting in his haste and elbowed past the bodies between himself and Cora. Though it only took a few long strides to reach her, he couldn't get to her fast enough now. Skidding onto his knees, Robert's breath caught at the amount of fresh blood pooling around her. Carefully, he lifted her head and placed it into his lap. He hadn't realized he'd traveled with his napkin until he was holding it to Cora's mouth. With his other hand, he gently stroked the hair from her forehead, leaving streaks of red marring her white skin.

Inside he was shredded by incomprehensible terror, but outside Robert was instantly steady, focused. He continued to cradle Cora's head, he wiped the blood still gurgling from her mouth. He hushed her with reassurance and firmly worded platitudes.

"What is it?" Mary could be heard asking frantically.

"Her ulcer has burst." Dr Clarkson replied. "We must get her to the hospital as quickly as we can."

Another fit seemed to course through Cora's body and she spasmed in Robert's arms.

"I'm here darling, don't worry." Robert cooed, the edges of his calm beginning to fray. There was too much blood, he knew, and it wasn't stopping.

"If this is it, just know that I have loved you very, very much." Cora managed to get out.

Every part of Robert recoiled with denial at her words, they fell on his heart like a bomb. "This isn't it darling. Don't…" _Don't you dare leave me,_ he wanted to scream into the room. "We won't let this be it."

Cora stared up at him, her eyes taking on a glassy sheen he'd seen on the battlefield. His hold on her tightened. Robert had heard of the phrase _life flashing before your eyes,_ but he'd never realized it could happen when it wasn't your own life in danger. But his flashed, rapidly. Their's really, his and Cora's together, every little piece of history they had shared, every happiness, every heartache, and every simple gesture in between. No, this couldn't be it! He needed more; more time, more memories, more life with her. They were to take a trip together, just the two of them! He had plans for them, she was too young, and he had so many more years ahead of him, years he wouldn't be able to bare without her.

A touch to his shoulder broke Robert from his inner hysteria and he looked up to see a shaken Tom.

"They're here. They've come to take her."

Robert looked past him to see a group of men dressed in white, a stretcher hoisted among them. Robert pulled Cora closer, shaking his head.

"I'll do it," Robert croaked, moving to gather her up in his arms, unwilling to let these strangers touch her.

"Lord Grantham, there's no time. Let them take care of her." Dr. Clarkson instructed.

Edith and Tom's hands were on his shoulders, gently but persistently removing him from his position on the floor. Robert resisted at first but yielded as the attendants gingerly manuevered the board under Cora. Her eyes were closed, her features slack and Robert's breath stuck between his ribs until she emitted a soft groan at the jostling. Once she was in position, the men hurried from the dining room and Robert automatically followed closely on their heels. He looked past the senior staff members that had lined the hall, some helping the family into coats and gloves, others standing watch, faces bald with distress as Cora was rushed out of the house. Robert was minimally aware of Bates's own ministrations as he thrust his overcoat on him.

"My lord," Bates's voice was grave with concern.

"Thank you Bates," Robert whispered, holding the man's arm for support before letting go and running out the door himself.

Tom had already brought the car around, the girls scurrying into the back.

"Papa!" Mary called and Robert shook himself, willing his legs, which had suddenly gone leaden, to work. Once they obeyed, he scrambled into the passenger seat next to Tom, who pressed the gas viciously, the tires squealing in their haste to meet Tom's demands.

Robert held tightly to the door handle as he kept his eyes on the ambulance ahead, trying to make out the shadows cast against the back windows. No one spoke, each of them trapped in the depths of their own quietness as they held the harsh strobe lights of the ambulance in their view. With Cora sequestered in the ambulance ahead of them, and her life in the hands of others, the adrenaline seeped from Robert's body. There was nothing more he could do as they sped through the night and tremors began to pass through his body in waves. A numbing cold took hold of his extremities and Robert wondered if he was going into shock. The air in his lungs was turning stale and he gagged, covering it up with a cough as Tom's eyes swung in his direction.

After what seemed like an excruciatingly long time, Tom snapped the car to a stop in front of the hospital. Robert and Dr Clarkson clamored out of their respective vehicles at the same time, and the army escorting Cora into the hospital walked with speed through the door and down the corridor. Dr. Clarkson trailed close behind while Robert ran after him.

"Dr. Clarkson!" Robert grabbed the man's arm, impeding his progress. Dr Clarkson's words in the dining room had suddenly come back to him.

"Yes," Dr. Clarkson answered impatiently.

"You said," Robert stammered, "that is, what's happening to Lady Grantham...is a burst ulcer?"

Dr Clarkson nodded emphatically. "I'm sure of it. I thought it was taken care of before Christmas. She hadn't been back with any complaints."

Robert let his hand fall away.

"I'm going to do a thorough assessment and I'll be back shortly to discuss a plan." Dr Clarkson informed him before turning and racing down the hall, a nurse meeting him at the surgery door and helping him into his sterile coat.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Thank you all so much for the reviews!**

Patience was not a virtue Robert possessed. Left in the silence of the waiting room, the only thing he could do was mark the time and think. Robert couldn't control the despondent dark hole his brooding brought him down. It had only taken Dr Clarkson ten or so minutes to come back and declare that Cora needed emergency surgery, but even that had felt like an eternity as he stewed in his terrifying imaginings. Robert had tried to follow what the doctor said when he explained the procedure...and the risks. It all sounded like a jumble of big words equaling a gamble with Cora's life. Suppressing the questions he had, Robert had hastily signed the papers thrust into his hands, the trembling still evident in the bumpy loops of his signature, and the doctor had disappeared into the surgery theater, silence descending once more.

After, much after, he was left with a nagging worry that he hadn't fully understood what they were doing to her. He had left Cora in their hands, strangers virtually, and the doubt, the uncertainty that they were doing the right thing for her, slowly ate away at him.

The girls sat in the narrow chairs rimming the perimeter of the small room, more subdued than Robert had seen them both in a long time. Tom wore his worry as freely as he pleased, making no show of covering it up. Robert alternated between sitting and pacing. Once his limbs grew too weary to take another step he would fall into one of the chairs, but the inaction of his body triggered the wandering of his mind. The pictures conjured were the stuff of Robert's worst nightmares and so vivid that he half expected Dr. Clarkson to appear any moment. His deep sympathy would be etched into the contours of his face as he delicately told them of Cora's passing. Robert's body prepared for it, as if he could properly ready himself for such a thing. Every muscle tensed until it spasmed, his breath sped up, his chest constricted. Waiting felt like he imagined a heart attack would feel, and Robert thought he wouldn't survive the ordeal if they didn't hear soon.

When the thinking became too much, when his stomach threatened to empty its contents, Robert jumped back up again and wore another path into the marbled tile. He tried to pace his breathing with the sound of his steps echoing around him and he focused on the two, pushing out everything else.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, Tom broke the silence. "Did you know she was ill?"

The question caught Robert off guard and he paused mid-stride, turning and frowning until he slowly figured out what Tom was referring to. Robert shook his head.

"That is _so_ like Mama!" Mary's words were edged with anger.

" _Mary_!" Edith hissed.

Robert was on the verge of admonishing her himself, of shutting down any criticisms of her mother, but Mary said no more. The look on her face quieted any reprimand Robert thought to deliver. Though her words sounded harsh, Mary's face told him how frightened she truly was, her wide, brown eyes, her bloodless lips. Robert understood Mary, many of her characteristics were echoes of his own, or his mama's. And he sympathized with her, anger felt so much better than despair. Anger was animated, it made blood pump hotly through the veins. Despair was like drowning. If it weren't Cora, if what they had witnessed in the dining room hadn't so viciously shaken him, then perhaps he would bow to anger too. As it was, in the hours they had been made to wait with no word as to her condition, Robert had fully convinced himself of the worst. The only thing he could feel was overwhelming grief.

"Papa?"

Joining him where he stood in the middle of the room, Edith held tightly to his arm. The lateness of the hour, and the drama of the day, were catching up with Robert. Every part of him quivered with exhaustion.

"Mama...she'll be alright, won't she?" Edith's voice was tentative, like a younger version of herself.

"Of course she will!" Mary answered adamantly and Robert couldn't help but smile sadly at his eldest child. For all of her hard exterior, Mary cared deeply.

"Lord Grantham?"

All of their attention whipped towards Dr Clarkson, who stood in the door looking worn out and bleary eyed. Robert clasped Edith's hand, steadying himself and she sucked in a breath. Mary and Tom sprung from their seats. The truth of Cora's fate rested on the words forming on Dr Clarkson's lips and when he opened his mouth to deliver them, Robert had a very strong urge to cover his ears and block them out. While he had been ruminating on the worst possible outcome for the last few hours, now that he was about to hear how it had all turned out, Robert realized he'd rather exist in this space, this blind purgatory.

Edith's fingers dug uncomfortably into his arm as she readied herself for the news and Tom and Mary appeared at his other side. Only when his chest started to ache did he notice he had held his last inhale. Exhaling in a rush, he felt lightheaded and Mary took his other arm.

"Lady Grantham is being brought into the recovery room." Dr Clarkson announced and Robert had to repeat the words over in his mind to be sure he heard correctly.

"Then she's alright?" Mary asked, her voice unnaturally high and tight.

"She's come through it," Dr Clarkson replied cautiously. "We had to remove a portion of her lower stomach. She's still very weak from the blood loss and the recovery will take some time."

"But she will recover?" Tom stated.

Dr Clarkson's face remained somber, not the face of a man who had won a war but who had staved off defeat for the moment. Robert's heart felt cold.

"The next twenty-four hours are critical. If Lady Grantham makes it through those, and infection does not settle in, than I think she has a good chance."

* * *

Robert had been in this limbo place before, this quagmire of a place, where he sat helpless, while Cora fought battle to come back to him. His mind, sluggish and undisciplined at such a late (or was it early?) hour, recalled a joke his mother in law had made years ago. A lifetime before, it seemed, when he had almost lost Downton, back when he thought that was the worst that could happen to them. He and Martha had found themselves alone together in the library, drinking whiskey. He had been lamenting about his folly. _Don't worry about Cora_ , Martha's words punctuated by a hiccup, t _hat girl is like a cat. Always lands on her feet and has nine lives._

Robert screwed his eyes shut at the memory, feeling the tenuous composure he had somehow maintained slipping. Martha may have been right but Robert prayed that this would be the last vigil he ever had to keep by Cora's sickbed. There had been too many of them.

Cora's hand remained cool and slack in his own, and he flexed his tingling digits around her palm, trying to coax the blood to circulate once more through his veins. Inactive all these hours, numbness had settled in and the movement made him gasp at the pain as his hand became reanimated. Discomfort was a small price to pay to keep touching her, the only thing reassuring him that she was there.

The girls and Tom had left hours ago, sent back home by Robert with a promise that he would call the moment she awakened or anything changed, but Cora remained still, alarmingly so. Robert had to remind himself that it was to be expected, she'd gone through such an ordeal, they'd performed a serious surgery on her, but still. Her inactivity unnerved him, even her breathing was barely perceptible and Robert had leaned close more than once, placing his ear just below her jaw to hear the small puffs of air wheezing in and out. His energetic, bright Cora was so quiet and unmoving.

Fatigue cramped every tendon and ligament, it even made Robert's teeth ache but part of him remained on high alert, tuned in to any slight sway in circumstance. He desperately wanted to lay his head down, but his fear that something should happen, that Cora should fall into distress and need him, had Robert jumpy and unable to rest. Instead, he let his clouded vision travel from their hands up her arm, hidden by the cuff of the hospital gown she'd been dressed in. It was the look of that fabric, dull and institutional and abrasive against the fragility of Cora's wrist, that finally began to shake the foundation of Robert's composure. By the time his eyes took in Cora's face, her waxen cheeks, her lips the unnatural shade of seashells, Robert's tears were blubbering over, caught by their joined hands, which he had lifted up to his mouth. He kissed her palm over and over, willing some warmth back into it, giving release to all of the turmoil he had repressed.

"Cora, Cora," Robert choked on her name.

The magnitude of what had happened, what could have happened, what could still happen, hit Robert in the chest like a fist and he struggled for breath. She'd been so close, they had been so close. And not for the first time, Robert felt as though he had failed her. He had promised to protect her, all those years ago in the rose garden when he'd awkwardly lowered to one knee and asked her to mold her life to his. He hadn't offered her love then, but he had sworn he would make her happy, that he would care for her. Cora's comfort had been Robert's duty and he had failed, time and again, it seemed. He hadn't been able to protect her from anything and it was her own strength that had seen her through trials that would beat most. If anything, Cora had taken care of him, looked after him, helped him through. And what had it gotten her?

"How is the patient?"

The whispered question had knocked him so unaware that Robert jumped in his seat, releasing Cora's hand and spinning around on the chair. Isobel smiled sheepishly from the door and he let out a shaky breath, his heart still banging wildly against his ribs. Robert rubbed his bleary eyes, erasing any evidence of his tears.

"She hasn't moved, Isobel." Robert replied. "Is that normal?"

Isobel nodded, stepping further into the room. "It's to be expected."

She continued, purposefully, to Cora's bedside. Lifting Cora's wrist, Isobel placed her fingers on the pulse point and her lips moved as she counted the beats. Handling Cora gently, Isobel settled Cora's hand back on top of the covers. Maneuvering to the foot of the bed, she produced a chart, the one Robert had watched the nurses record their findings in all night. Isobel flipped through the pages briskly, chewing her bottom lip. The action caused Robert to slide to the edge of his seat, his back arching rigidly as he clutched the leather arms of the chair.

"What is it?" Panic colored his words.

Isobel shook her head. "Nothing...only they have her on a rather high dosage of medication. That's what's keeping her asleep. She needs it, Robert."

Robert slumped back in his chair, his head falling into his hands. His breath came out a little easier and a wave of nauseous exhaustion crested over him. The slight touch of Isobel's hand on his shoulder roused him.

"I think I saw the car from the Abbey making it's way down the drive as I came in. Your replacement should be here soon." Isobel said softly.

Robert shook his head, slowly at first but becoming more adamant. "I'm not going anywhere."

Isobel pursed her lips and cocked her head. "Robert, be sensible. You've been up for over twenty-four hours now. You've had a tremendous shock."

It was then that Robert looked to the windows, seeing the sun, muted by the thick shades. It was morning. As if waiting in the theater wings for her cue, Mary peeked around the open door. Robert and Isobel turned at the tiny creek announcing her presence. Mary's eyes were hooded, dark smudges in her pale face. Her eyes darted around the room uncertainly. When she took in the scene, he in his seat and her mother in the bed, a shudder of relief rippled over her shoulders. Mary straightened, forced a smile on her face, and marched into the room.

"Papa. How is she?" Mary asked, coming to his side and placing a peck to his cheek. Robert leaned into it and patted her hand.

"Much the same. She hasn't stirred." Robert sighed.

"Well," Mary stated, clapping her hands together to punctuate her words. "I'm here now and you can go."

Robert stared at her, his jaw squared. Instead of standing from his chair, Robert dragged it closer to the bed, his knees banging against the cold railing. He took Cora's hand in his once again and ignored the women standing behind him.

"Papa-".

"Robert…".

Isobel and Mary spoke as one voice, but Robert tuned them out.

Mary sighed heavily behind him. "Papa, you've been here all night."

"And I will be here when your mother wakes." Robert insisted, anger starting to build.

"But-".

Robert spun around, piercing his daughter with cool eyes. "I'm not going anywhere, Mary! Do you understand?!"

Mary's nostrils flared at the scolding but her left foot crossed itself behind her right as she fidgeted in the face of his ire. Her "But Papa…" was half-hearted, even before Robert cut her off.

"What would you have me do? Sleep? Have a soak? And what if something were to happen while I'm gone? Are you prepared to make a life and death decision on her behalf? Are you Mary?" Robert asked, his voice cracking.

Robert bit down hard on the inside of his cheek until he tasted the bitter tang of iron. Mary lowered her gaze and Robert pivoted in his chair, catching from the corner of his vision as Mary hastily placed her fingers to the corner of her eye, possibly wiping away a tear. Guilt nipped at his conscious, but Robert slapped it away.

"Why don't we call up to the house, at the least?" Isobel interrupted, her words cautiously delivered. "Have Bates bring you some fresh clothes? Perhaps Mrs Patmore could send a basket."

"Alright," Robert conceded quietly.

He heard the swishing of Isobel's dress as she slipped from the room. He heard other noises too, the screech of metal against tile, the small grunt from Mary as she dragged her burden closer. A part of him thought he should help but all of his energy was focused on Cora. Their fighting earlier had not disturbed her and Robert felt horribly for hoping that it had, that their voices had been the magic tonic to wake her.

Mary lowered herself into the chair she had placed next to him, leaning toward her mother and moving a lock of hair off of Cora's face. Her fingers paused on Cora's face a moment, her hand looking milky and vivid against Cora's grey complexion and Robert startled, reaching for Cora's arm, clasping it tightly. Touching her reminded him that despite how frighteningly ill she looked, Cora was still there with them.

As if reading his thoughts, Mary whispered, "She's going to come through it, Papa."

Robert didn't point out that her assurance sounded more like a question. With his free hand he reached for his daughter, glad for her company, despite their heated exchange.

* * *

Consciousness washed over her the way the ocean water teases the sand on a beach. It rose and suddenly a bit of conversation hovered beside her, whispered words she couldn't piece together. It fell and she felt herself sink back into the deep dark. It undulated once again and she rolled closer to shore, a stitch in her side tweaking her, her mouth closed and uncomfortably dry. Her mind instructed her body and her body ignored it, remaining adamantly unresponsive. Cora drifted back into oblivion, wanting to answer Robert's far away voice, but her limbs were heavy, her lips too leaden to move.

Time wasn't linear. Flashes of memory were blurry behind her eyes, like pictures dotted with rain, bubbling and bleeding images. Fragments of dreams left her sluggish heart racing. She felt like she was falling, that weightless, stomach-in-your-throat feeling. She couldn't quite catch her breath around it.

A whimper vibrated through her chest and the blackness she had been submerged in cracked, a fissure of light creeping in. Her nose awakened as it recognized Robert's scent. Her fingers twitched under the vice of his grasp. Her ears strained, trying to make sense of the noise he made, words she imagined, though they sounded stretched out and unnaturally slowed down. The need to see him, to hold him, invigorated her temporarily, but unconsciousness pulled Cora back under the surface and she floated away.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Thank you, thank you all of you beautiful people who have left such wonderful, heartfelt and encouraging reviews! I hope you enjoy this next chapter. There will be one more after this to 'wrap up' this little AU foray!**

" _Cora! Cora! Harold!"_

 _With the sound of the ocean in her ears, the static sound of a foamy sea and the wind whistling so harshly it sent tendrils of hair slapping across her face, Mother's voice was almost lost as she called out to them._

 _Cora laughed, her bare feet sinking into the grainy sand, each footfall bringing her closer to the water. She didn't look back as she easily overtook and then passed Harold, who had gotten so round and lazy that winter. His angry curses only made her toss her head back with joy, adding more fuel to her lean and long legs. Cora raced to the shoreline. She felt strong beyond her eleven years in this wild, open place, the sun toasting the bits of skin left uncovered, the taste of saltwater in her mouth._

 _Blueberry brambles and puffy hydrangea bunches bordered the beach and the smells mingled with the pungent tang of seaweed. Summer was here and they had finally left the stale heat of New York for the sweet welcome of Newport. Cora giggled, the cold water biting at her ankles and splashing up her calf as she kicked up her heels. Cora stopped, held a hand over her eyes to shade them from the sparkling sunlight and stared at the horizon ringing the blue water. A feeling of wanderlust swept through her as she dreamed of what lay on the other side of the ocean. A shout cut through the noise and penetrated her drifting thoughts. She turned. Papa had joined Mother under the umbrella, though he stood waving to her, his face stern._

" _Too rough!"_

 _Cora squinted and leaned forward trying to make sense of his words. Papa continued to wave, his gesticulations growing more urgent, and Harold had stopped at the edge of the water, cupping his hand to his mouth and pointing._

" _Behind you!"_

 _Cora whipped her head around in time to see the glassy wall of water crash into her. She gasped as the wave tossed her under, her beloved ocean betraying her. Cora flailed but the rip current pulled and pushed her and she couldn't find the surface. Panicking, her chest heaving with the need for air, Cora opened her eyes and swam for the light. Her head crested above the churning water. She could hear her mother screaming. Cora choked on a watery breath before being dragged under again._

"Cora".

 _Her legs and arms were cramping and the reflex to inhale was building once again, getting harder to ignore though she was still submerged under water. Hands took hold of her, just as her head began to throb, just as the fight was leaving her._

 _Papa, papa, help me!_

"Cora! Darling, shhh...I've got you. I've got you!"

Cora's inside's jumped awake, an involuntary movement of her muscles as the feeling of drowning followed her through memory. Her heart fluttered in her chest in a funny sort of off-beat tempo, like a panicked bird who's forgotten to fly. It made it harder to push through the shadows still enveloping her. She could feel fingers pressing into her upper arms, gentle but persistent, and by the quality of their touch she knew it wasn't her Papa.

Robert. Robert was there and the knowledge caused her pulse to decelerate, her breath to even out. Cora's body wished to slip under water again, she could feel the drag as limbs became heavy. She wavered, her mind slipping in and out of awareness, and she would have fallen back into sleep if not for the growing discomfort in her abdomen.

"Cora?" Robert again, speaking quietly to her, touching her face.

Cora attempted to open her eyes, finding them stubbornly stuck together. A few flutters and determined tugs loosened the gummy lashes only to allow the light to assault her feebly prepared eyes. Blinking rapidly, tears immediately helped dissolve the rest of the glue keeping her sightless and once her vision adjusted, Cora was able to see blurry images. The battle to open her eyes sapped more energy than she had in reserve, and she stared passively at the grainy pixels of color that she knew to be Robert.

"Darling?" Robert questioned, leaning in closer.

Making a noise halfway between a hum and a moan, Cora tried to speak only to find her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth, her throat so dry that her attempt at swallowing had her hacking weakly. The fit sent sparks of pain through her torso, aggravating her tender belly. There were voices in the background, Robert and others. Cora couldn't latch onto any of them as her mind remained trapped in the torment of her body. From the fiery flames that licked her side to the dry heat of her throat choking her, Cora was engulfed in pain.

"Water…" she managed, her lips stretching and cracking as she formed the word.

"It's ice, darling. Too soon for water but Dr. Clarkson said ice would be fine. If you just open up I can…".

Cora obeyed, letting Robert push small shards into her open mouth. The cool, wetness provided some relief and Cora sighed. Even the turmoil in her side was receding to a dull and manageable throb. Robert made encouraging noises, as one would to a sick child, as he offered her more ice. Cora took it gratefully, lethargy taking hold again. She was so very tired, the simple act of sucking water from ice leaving her trembling with fatigue. Sleep beckoned her, and Cora was close to giving in. Movement at her other side penetrated her slackening thoughts and her head lolled lazily over. Another hazy figure in white was lifting her arm, palpitating the flesh in the crook of her elbow. A sudden prick in her arm jolted her momentarily before Cora settled again. A sting of fluid rushed under her skin and then the fire began to fizzle out and the room began to sway. Cora relaxed into the stiff mattress. Somewhere, whether in memory or in reality, Robert cradled her hand to his chest.

"I'm so sorry," his broken voice stirred her. "This is all my fault."

Cora twitched to respond but the drugs filling her veins crushed her ability to move and she slipped into sleep.

* * *

The next time Cora woke, her head was clearer from the moment consciousness pulled her from her dreams. Eyelids snapping back, Cora blinked several times before realizing that it was the lateness of the hour that caused the room to be shrouded in such darkness, and not a defect of her vision. Even cloaked in night, Cora could tell she wasn't in her bedroom. It had been evident from her first awareness of the coarse and stiff bedding covering her. Shivering, Cora attempted to pull the thin blanket up only to be met with resistance. Tilting her head and looking down the length of her nose, she saw Robert slumped over in a narrow chair, his head resting on the mattress near her hipbone. Slack-jawed and snoring as he was, Robert still looked as though he hadn't slept in weeks. Through the dark Cora could see the bruised flesh under his eyes, the two day stubble marring his face. It was clearly in the small hours of the morning yet he was in his shirt and slacks.

Cora's stomach flipped in concern, only to awaken the familiar burden of her ulcer. Ignoring it, Cora lifted her hand and swiped a lock of Robert's hair off of his forehead. Though her touch was featherlight, he immediately sprang up, his eyes darting around as he quickly shook off the torpor of sleep. The tension in Robert's shoulders visibly rippled away from him when he saw her eyes open. A smile lit his face but his eyes still sagged with the weight of something Cora couldn't comprehend. They remained silent, staring at one another, and in those quiet moments Cora knew something had happened, something large and terrifying. She was without fear, however, because she also knew the something had not happened to him, but to her. She could see it reflected in Robert's swimming, blue eyes.

"Where am I?" Cora had wondered what to ask, determining that the 'what' would come out eventually. She was most curious about her surroundings.

"Downton Village Hospital." Robert replied.

Cora nodded, the stark decor making sense.

"How...I don't remember, Robert." Cora whispered.

Robert clasped her hand, hard. "What's the last thing you recall?"

Cora chewed on her lip. "The library. We were talking to Isobel and Dr Clarkson about Mr Chamberlain coming to dinner."

Robert studied her, wordless seconds passing as he fought to maintain his composure. Cora could see it, the quivering of his chin and then the clamping of his jaw only for his brows to fold in deeply across the bridge of his nose. Cora lifted her hand and ran it along his cheek, Robert wincing at her touch before capturing her fingers and pressing them to his lips. They trembled.

"What happened?" Cora asked.

Robert shook his head and closed his eyes. They stood this way for so long that Cora doubted he would answer her. Eventually, his eyes opened and he squinted at her, a tear escaping, his mouth forming a grim line. His struggle for composure broke her heart.

"You almost died," Robert's voice faltered and Cora inhaled sharply, his words catching her completely off guard. "Your ulcer burst during dinner and you almost died...Cora….".

Robert shook his head again, lowering his face. A silent sob wracked his shoulders. Cora attempted to sit up but the jarring set off flashes of pain in her side and she fingered it gently, only to find bandages bundled up under nightdress.

"I'm sorry, Robert." Cora managed.

"Please, don't." Robert interrupted, placing a finger on her lips.

"I should have-".

"No," Robert said firmly, his hand moving to her face as he caressed her forehead. "I am the one who needs your forgiveness."

Cora stuttered, blinking rapidly. "What? Why?"

Robert's frown chiseled his grief-stricken face. "I did this."

"Robert…" Cora admonished gently but he ignored her, nodding.

"I did, Cora. My damn stubborn pride. I punished you unnecessarily for Bricker."

"You aren't to blame," Cora soothed, attempting to touch him but Robert pushed back, out of her reach.

"I am. They had to operate on you, Cora." Robert stammered. "And the whole while, I kept thinking, if something should happen...if I...lose you...I will have...killed you…".

"Robert!" Cora hissed.

He was sobbing again, giant, loud keens this time, his arms folded tightly around his chest, as though he were mourning her, as though he couldn't quite convince himself that she had pulled through. Cora stretched, ignoring the protesting tear in her side as she wrapped her fingers in the sleeve of his shirt. He came willingly when she pulled him down, carefully but firmly molding himself to her good side.

"Shh. I am not lost." Cora cooed. "You haven't lost anything, Robert! I am right here."


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: I was going to wait to post this chapter, but since it was done I figured I would publish and wrap this little story up. A sincere thank you to everyone who has read and everyone who has taken the time to review. It means so much to hear your thoughts! Thanks for taking this little journey with me. And a special thanks to ohtobealady, who let me take a drabble prompt she received a while back and run with it.**

Epilogue

 _6 months later_

Robert's thoughts were with Edith, at that late hour speeding towards the train with Bertie, beginning their new life together with a great adventure. He thought of Bates just down the hall, his new son held in the safety of his parents arms. He thought of Mary and Henry, who whispered their secret to he and Cora moments after the New Year's toast.

Mostly, Robert thought of Cora, as he often found himself doing.

What a year 1925 had turned out to be. He had been reflecting on its events, as perhaps one was meant to do at the end of an old year. Many of them he wished not to relive, but the memories persisted, still all of these months later. Nightmares plagued him frequently, something he tried to keep from Cora, though he suspected she knew. Responsibility for what had happened still burdened him acutely, and Robert suspected that Cora knew this too.

Her recovery from the ulcer and surgery had been a painful process, with Robert still bogged down from guilt and feeling pitifully unhelpful. Cora had treated the affair with her typical disregard for her own well being, much more concerned about him and the house and the children. Robert had caught her a number of times creeping out of bed by herself, her excuse always being that poor Baxter was being run ragged. It hadn't helped that Isobel and Dr. Clarkson had staged their coup d'etat in her sick room, naming Cora president to the hospital that had saved her life not two weeks prior.

It had been hard for Robert to hold in his fury when Cora's antics resulted in torn stitches and a mild infection, prolonging the whole ordeal and properly knocking the stuffing out of his wife. She'd been a model patient after that and looking after her had been Robert's main focus since, even as her strength returned.

 _A long and happy life, just we two, to watch the children grow. That's all I want._

Cora's words echoed in Robert's head as he fumbled with the buttons of his collar. It was all he wanted as well, more than anything else, actually.

Smoothing his hands over the silk pajamas he had changed into, Robert opened the draw of his side table and took out the envelope he'd hidden, stuffing it into his pocket. Quietly, he padded over to the dividing door, opening it carefully. When he saw the back of Cora, Baxter and Cora's evening dress long gone, Robert entered fully. Whether it was an extension of her exhaustion or his own stealth, she hadn't heard him and Robert took the unguarded moment to study her profile. She still looked far too thin to him, the frailty that seemed to cling to her a constant reminder that they had almost lost her.

Swallowing down the instant panic those kinds of thoughts usually inspired, Robert walked to where Cora sat, her hand resting on the marble top of her vanity, the comb in her fingers loose and about to fall. She was staring off into space, her eyes drooping. Robert brushed his knuckles along her jawline and Cora startled, smiling up at him tiredly.

"What a day!" Cora declared. "We certainly sent 1925 off with a bang."

"Good riddance, I say." Robert declared.

Cora chuckled, placing her hand in Robert's. He pulled her gently to her feet and placed a kiss on her forehead. Leaving his lips to linger there, Cora purred with contentment in his arms.

"Did you really mean what you said downstairs?" Cora's quiet question broke through Robert's serenity.

"Hmm?" Robert asked.

Cora pulled away, her eyes searching his face. "That you were proud of me?"

Robert tilted his head, her earnest voice, the tears that welled in Cora's eyes cleaving his heart.

"Of course I meant it," Robert replied, taking Cora's face in his hands. "I'm sorry I don't say it enough, but you make me very, very proud. You always have."

Cora closed her eyes, a tear slipping down her cheek. Robert used the pad of his thumb to wipe it away.

"I have one more thing for you."

"Oh?" Cora sniffed, smiling cautiously as Robert searched in his pocket, producing a long envelope. Cora's eyes widen with mirth. "What's this for?"

"Well, it was just Christmas. So it could be for that. Or for a job well done with the hospital. Or for all of your hard work behind the wedding of Edith's dreams." Robert wagged the envelope in front of Cora. "Or simply because you are my wife and I love you very much."

The smile on Cora's face spread, her happiness turning her pale cheeks a vibrant pink. Plucking the gift from his hands, Cora opened the folds and peered inside. She gasped and put her hand over her mouth, looking from Robert to the papers, back to Robert.

"What do you think? Shall we go?" Robert asked and laughed as Cora nodded eagerly.

"Really, Robert?! Truly?" Cora asked in astonishment.

"Yes, my darling. Just you and I in Paris, Milan, Venice and then Istanbul via the Orient Express!" Robert raised his eyebrows. "Are you ready for luxury and intrigue, as the brochure so eloquently promises?"

Cora giggled. "I'll take luxury, but perhaps we can leave the intrigue to our fellow passengers."

"Amen to that!" Robert agreed.

Cora shook her head. "Seriously, Robert. This is too extravagant! It will cost us a small fortune."

Robert hushed her protests by placing his fingers on her lips. "Stop. Cora, we celebrated our thirty-fifth wedding anniversary this year. Our girls have found love again and they are on their way, pray God, to happy futures building their families."

Cora sighed happily.

Robert took her in his arms again, swaying. "And I was viciously reminded that life is too short. You deserve this. WE deserve this."

"Oh Robert," Cora exhaled. "Thank you."

"No," Robert answered. "Thank you, Cora."

"For what?" Cora asked sweetly, lifting her chin up to meet Robert's eyes.

Robert stared down at her, taking Cora's face in his hands. He couldn't say all of the things he wished to, he would never do his feelings justice. And even if he could find the right poetry to express himself properly, the simple act of saying the words would choke him up. Already, Robert's throat tightened with emotion.

"For everything, Cora." Robert whispered, leaning down, his nose almost touching her's. It was not Byron, but it was the truth. Everything good in his life was down to her. And despite some heartaches along the way, his life had been better than he had ever imagined it could be.

"For everything," Robert repeated before covering her lips with his own.


End file.
